


Tragedy

by Asynca



Series: Ready, Set, Go! - Speed Prompts [19]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Humor, Humour, procrastination drabble, written instead of updating East End I'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 02:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7825897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asynca/pseuds/Asynca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Speed prompt written in 16 minutes. Prompted on Tumblr: 'Tragedy'. Spoilers: it's not tragic (although Lena would disagree).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tragedy

 

When Widowmaker wandered into their kitchen to make lunch, she found Lena—who was still in her pyjamas—folded up in the corner of it,  _sobbing_.

That was far too much emotion before midday. “I take it that means you haven’t emptied the dishwasher,” she said flatly, and then went to pointedly do it herself.

Lena promptly stopped sobbing to _glare_ at her. “Oi! You’re _supposed_ to ask what’s wrong and comfort me, _Widowmaker_!” she told her. “Can’t you tell I’m upset?”

Widowmaker gave her a look. “I think the whole street can tell you’re upset.”

Lena’s jaw _dropped._ Her shock only lasted for a second, and then she gave Widowmaker a lip-wibbling, wet-eyed glare and burst into tears again, wailing something mostly incomprehensible about her girlfriend being heartless and _who did she expect she was dating? Someone who’d actually care about her girlfriend’s wellbeing?_ etc, etc.

Widowmaker rolled her eyes, sorting the clean cutlery into its place in the drawer. Honestly, this was _ridiculous_. Obviously nothing was genuinely wrong; Lena was quiet and withdrawn when there was really something going on. This over-the-top, attention-seeking display was completely beyond the—

Her eyes fell on their shopping list which _someone_ had left on the bench (instead of putting it back in its proper place, which was on the fridge), and there was an item added to it that wasn’t in Widowmaker’s elegant cursive. It was scrawled in all-print, all-capitals and underlined: _TAMPONS._

_Oh_. Suddenly this all ridiculousness made sense. Well, she thought, perhaps she had a moment to visit the supermarket now; some fresh bread wouldn’t go astray, either.

Tucking the list in her pocket, she walked out without looking at the mess in the corner.

The mess wasn’t happy about that. “What, you’re just going to _leave_ me like this?” it called after her, the betrayal audible in its voice.

“ _Adieu, Cherie_ ,” she called sweetly back, mentally adding ‘chocolate’ to her list of items to return with.  


End file.
